Читать книгу Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection - Debbie Macomber - Страница 66

Thirteen

“Are we going to have a big turkey like Mom always cooked?” Eddie asked Thanksgiving morning.

Zach wasn’t fully awake yet, and already his son was demanding answers to questions he could barely comprehend. “Sure,” he said sleepily as he sat up in bed. He glanced at the clock radio and saw that it was only eight. Sleeping in, apparently, was not an option.

“Don’t you think you should put it in the oven now?” Eddie asked.

The turkey was supposed to be in the oven? This early? Then Zach remembered he’d already solved this issue at the local grocery store. The national chain offered fully cooked Thanksgiving dinners, complete with a thirteen-pound turkey, mashed potatoes, giblet gravy, plus dressing. As a bonus, they threw in a can of cranberry sauce and a pumpkin pie.

“Mom always had the turkey in the oven early in the morning, don’t you remember?” Eddie was almost bouncing on Zach’s bed.

Frankly Zach didn’t remember. What he recalled was the tension during Thanksgiving dinner last year, when he’d been fighting with Rosie. They’d barely managed to get through the day without a major blowup. This year was different. This year it was Zach and the kids and no one else.

According to the terms of the divorce, Zach had been awarded all the major holidays, including Thanksgiving, but Rosie got Christmas Day. He could have Allison and Eddie Christmas Eve, but only until midnight. Heaven forbid if he stayed here one minute past. He remembered Rosie’s anger as he’d disputed those terms and suspected she’d welcome the opportunity to drag him back into court. So much for peace and goodwill, he mused darkly. During the crisis precipitated by Allison’s rebellious behavior, he and Rosie had been aligned in their views and actions, but things had quickly reverted to the earlier animosity.

“Is Allison up?” Zach asked.

Eddie frowned and shook his head. “Do you want me to set the table for dinner?”

“Can we have breakfast first?” Zach mumbled, although he was beginning to share his son’s enthusiasm.

“Do we have to?” Eddie whined. “I want stuffing. It’s my favorite part of the dinner.”

“Mine, too,” Zach confided. Rosie might have her faults as a cook, but she did make the most incredible dressing. His mouth started to water before he remembered that Rosie wouldn’t be stuffing the bird this year. Albertson’s would.

While Zach showered, shaved and dressed, Eddie watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on television. Zach was pleasantly surprised to find Allison awake and sitting in the family room. She lounged on the sofa with her bare feet braced on the edge of the coffee table while she leafed through the newspaper.

“Morning,” Zach greeted her, uncertain what to expect in response. It was a day-today struggle with his daughter.

Her reply was half growl and half human. Zach had suggested a truce over the holiday, and Allison had agreed, but she’d let it be known that she was doing him a big favor and he should be grateful.

“What are you reading?” he asked, sinking down onto the sofa next to her. If Allison was willing to make an effort, then so could he. He held a cup of coffee in his hand and had half an eye on the television screen.

“The ads.”

“Advertisements?” Zach asked, her answer catching him off guard.

Eddie raced into the kitchen and returned with a huge bowl of cold cereal. Milk sloshed over the edges as he lowered himself to a cross-legged position on the floor. Zach was about to send him back to the other room, but he didn’t feel right being so strict with his son on a holiday. Eddie could eat in the family room this once, despite the rules.

“Tomorrow’s the biggest Christmas-shopping day of the year,” Allison informed him, continuing to turn the pages of the flyers, scanning each one with care.

These flyers didn’t mean a lot to Zach. He hated shopping. Rosie was the one who purchased all the Christmas gifts. He dreaded the thought of even entering a mall. Last Christmas he’d asked Janice to buy Rosie’s gifts for him; not only had she done a decent job, but she’d wrapped them, as well. His gift to Janice had been a cash bonus, a generous amount—not a personal gift but a practical one—and he’d figured that as a single mother, Janice could use the extra money at Christmas. It still rankled that she’d resigned.

“Mom and I used to read through every single ad,” Allison said absently.

This information wasn’t exactly life-changing. Women enjoyed that sort of thing, he guessed.

“It was fun.”

He shrugged, not understanding the sadness he heard in his daughter’s voice. This was beyond him. If she wanted to get all sentimental over a bunch of advertisements, he’d let her.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Allison sobbed, her eyes swimming with tears.

“What?”

“Mom and I used to go shopping. It was our tradition. We had fun. I loved picking out my clothes for Christmas, and Mom was great about finding exactly what I wanted on sale.”

Zach was sorry, but he still didn’t get it. “You can go shopping with your mother in the morning if you want.” More power to them, as far as he was concerned. Then, thinking he’d add a bit of levity to the situation, he said. “Eddie, your mother and Allison can go shopping tomorrow, can’t they? We don’t care.”

“Sure you can go,” Eddie told his sister.

In response Allison hurled down the newspaper and stormed out of the room.

“What did I say?” Eddie asked. He picked up his bowl and drank from the edge, making loud slurping noises.

“I don’t know,” Zach muttered. He’d better go find out what he’d done that had warranted this reaction.

He discovered his daughter lying across her unmade bed, weeping her eyes out. Zach sighed. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he placed his hand on Allison’s shoulder. She jerked away, telling him in no uncertain terms that she found his touch repugnant.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said.

Allison curled up tightly. “Go away.”

“I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” she demanded between sobs.

“Because I love you, and it hurts me to see you so unhappy.” Zach was sincere about that.

“You don’t love me.”

“Allison, you’re wrong. You’re my princess, don’t you remember?” He’d called her that for years, until she’d asked him not to when she reached thirteen. Every now and then, he forgot.

Allison rolled onto her back and stared up at him, red-faced.

“What is it about the newspaper ads that upset you so much?” he asked gently.

His daughter sat up and ran the back of her hand under her nose. “Mom said we can’t go shopping tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Zach didn’t understand why Rosie was breaking such a beloved tradition, especially when it meant so much to Allison. They were looking for a way to build a bridge with their daughter, not blow it up!

“Mom said there wasn’t any money for Christmas this year because of the divorce.”

Zach wanted to groan out loud. He was hurting financially himself. Maintaining two households, paying off what he owed the attorneys, plus covering the cost of Rosie’s summer courses, had left him dry.

“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it.

Allison’s lower lip trembled as she nodded. “I know you are, but that doesn’t change a damn thing, does it?”

Zach had to agree she was right.

At noon, when Eddie couldn’t wait a moment longer, Zach drove to the grocery store and picked up their Thanksgiving feast. Allison had all the serving plates and bowls out when he returned.

“We don’t need to dirty those,” he said, thinking of all the extra dishes they would create. The dishwasher could only hold so much.

“We can’t serve mashed potatoes out of a plastic container on Thanksgiving Day,” Allison protested.

“Sure we can,” Eddie insisted righteously. “Come on, Allison, you’re holding up the stuffing.”

Zach’s teenage daughter rolled her eyes and surrendered.

With great ceremony Zach unloaded the box. The turkey was browned to perfection and Zach brought out the knife and fork to slice it, lifting the meat from the bird and transferring it to each of their plates. While he worked on the turkey Allison and Eddie helped themselves to the trimmings.

They waited until he’d finished dishing up his own plate and then the three of them joined hands for the prayer. Zach didn’t feel much like praying so he said, “Good food, good meat. Good God, let’s eat.”

“Amen,” Eddie cried, and reached for his fork.

Allison looked at Zach, slowly shaking her head. It went without saying that if Rosie had been with them, he wouldn’t have gotten away with that. Zach winked at her. She winked back. It was almost like having his daughter back.

His first bite was disappointing. The stuffing was too bland, although he supposed that made sense. The grocery store prepared huge amounts at a time and had to satisfy a lot of different tastes.

“Not bad,” Zach said, putting on a bright front.

“It doesn’t taste right,” Eddie complained.

“It’s not Mom’s stuffing,” Allison informed them both.

No one needed to tell Eddie that. He complained with every bite and finally left the table after declining a piece of pumpkin pie.

Zach assumed his son was in front of the television, but when he went to join him and tempt him with pie, Eddie wasn’t there. A search found his son sitting on his bed crying.

Eddie had been a real trooper through the divorce proceedings. It was Allison who’d acted out her anger and rejection, Allison who’d given him his first gray hairs.

“I’m sorry the stuffing was a disappointment,” Zach said, standing in the doorway.

Eddie rubbed his eyes and sniffed.

Zach walked into the room and gathered his boy in his arms. It wasn’t often that Eddie crawled onto his lap anymore, but the nine-year-old came willingly now. He wrapped his arms around Zach’s neck and sniffled loudly.

“I wish you and Mom had never gotten a divorce,” he said.

“I know,” Zach whispered. With all his heart he wished he’d fought harder to save his marriage. Whatever it cost him would’ve been worth it to avoid the pain he and Rosie had inflicted on their children. Now it was too late. They couldn’t undo what they’d done.

Grace looked across the Thanksgiving table at Cliff and smiled, but her mind was a thousand miles away—in Georgia, where Will was spending the holiday with his wife and longtime friends.

After two days without word from him, she was suffering withdrawal symptoms. Her fingers itched for a computer keyboard so she could log on and talk to Will. When she’d inquired, Grace learned that Lisa and her husband had a computer, but it was kept in a corner of their bedroom. She felt awkward about asking to use it. Lisa hadn’t offered, and Grace had been forced to drop the matter. The fact that chatting online with Will had become so important confused and bothered her. Only a few months ago he was a boy from her past, a high-school crush, and suddenly he was so much more.

Then there was Cliff, and her feelings toward him were equally confusing. She was grateful to spend Thanksgiving with him and at the same time regretted accepting his invitation.

“Grace?” Cliff broke into her rambling thoughts.

She glanced at him and realized she’d missed something. She shook her head. “I’m sorry?”

“Lisa was asking if you’d like more turkey.”

She stared down at her plate and shook her head. “Thank you, but no, I’m stuffed.” She placed her hands on her stomach to give the impression that she’d overeaten, but she’d barely touched her dinner.

This trip to Maryland was more difficult than Grace had anticipated. They’d made the cross-country flight without problems, but sitting with Cliff for several hours the day before had been…uncomfortable. At one point early on, Cliff had reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, creating a mood of intimacy she didn’t want and couldn’t feel.

Lisa and her husband, Rich, were at the airport when Cliff and Grace landed. Cliff’s three-year-old granddaughter, April, had raced to his arms and he’d lifted her high in the air.

Thanksgiving morning, Grace had spent some time with Cliff’s daughter. Grace had liked Lisa immediately. She was very close to her father, and her adoration reminded Grace of the way Kelly had felt about Dan. As far as Kelly was concerned, Dan was about as perfect as a father could be. Lisa felt protective of her father, as Kelly had, drilling Grace at every opportunity to find out more about the relationship between her and Cliff.

When they’d finished their meal, the men wandered into the living room, to watch a football game on television. April went down for her nap, and Grace helped Lisa clear off the table. During her trips from the dining room to the kitchen, Grace noticed Cliff watching her. When he realized she knew, he smiled sheepishly and looked away.

Grace’s heart fell. Cliff was obviously in love with her. For a while she’d been convinced she loved him, too, but now she was no longer sure of that—or anything.

“You’re the first woman my father’s shown any interest in since he and my mother divorced,” Lisa said as Grace set the last of the dirty dishes on the kitchen counter. The house was cozy, and Lisa had decorated it in a kind of English-cottage style. She was a tall, lithe blonde; Grace wondered if that was how Susan, Cliff’s ex-wife, had looked, too.

“I think the world of your father,” Grace told her, and it was true.

Lisa ran water into the sink, adding detergent, and slid the pans into the suds. “Mom hurt him badly. It’s taken a long time for Dad to get over the divorce. I was beginning to wonder if he ever would.”

“Some wounds go very deep,” Grace said as a niggling guilt worked on her conscience—because it was Will who dominated her thoughts, Will who sent her pulse soaring. If she’d needed anything to prove how strongly she felt about him, these last two days had done exactly that.

Accepting Cliff’s invitation had encouraged the relationship, and that had been wrong for both of them. Although Grace liked Cliff, enjoyed his company, she considered him a friend, a very dear and good friend, but nothing more.

“Dad’s been so busy lately, he’s worried that you’ve given up on him,” Lisa said. “We talk every week, and you’re the main topic of conversation.”

“Me?”

“You and the guy who turned up dead at the bed-and-breakfast,” she joked, then grew serious. “He asks my advice.

I was the one who urged him to ask you out that first time.”

“Then I should thank you.”

“He admired the fact that you refused until your divorce was final.” Those had been bleak days in Grace’s life, as she’d confronted the unknown. Dan’s body had yet to be found, and she’d felt certain he was with another woman. Her self-esteem had been in tatters, and then along came this handsome rancher who courted her with gentleness and humor.

“I told Dad he should hire a full-time trainer, otherwise he was going to lose you,” Lisa said. She opened the dishwasher, a model as old as Grace’s, and arranged the dishes inside.

“I understand what it’s like to start up a new business,” Grace hurriedly assured her. The truth was, she’d barely noticed that she hadn’t heard from him much lately. Anytime she did hear from Cliff, it had seemed like an intrusion.

She hated feeling this way, but she couldn’t help it. Cliff was like Buttercup. He was big and warm and friendly and there when she needed him. On the other hand, her friendship with Will was exciting and new. The two of them talking for hours every day and keeping it a secret held a hint of intrigue. They were conspirators.

“Are you in love with my father?” Lisa asked, her arms elbow-deep in dishwater.

“I…I—”

“Are you embarrassing our dinner guest?” Cliff asked as he stepped into the kitchen. He stood behind Grace, slid his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her neck. She closed her eyes—not to savor the tenderness of the moment, but in relief because she didn’t have to answer Lisa’s question.

This was wrong, but she couldn’t say anything to Cliff. Not with his daughter and her husband so close. Not with Cliff’s granddaughter napping in the other room. It would have to wait until they were back in Cedar Cove, in familiar territory.

She could have told him on the flight home, but Grace refused to do that to him, especially after the hospitality his family had shown her. That would’ve piled wrong on top of wrong.

The instant Grace was back in Cedar Cove, she collected Buttercup from Kelly and Paul’s and headed home. Ten minutes after she walked in the front door, she was sitting in front of her computer.

“Oh, be there,” she whispered as she logged onto the Internet. She brought up the message board and hit the appropriate icons and waited an interminable few moments.

“Will, are you there?” she typed.

Almost immediately he responded. “Welcome back. How was Thanksgiving with your boyfriend?”

“Wonderful. How about yours?” she typed, wincing at the half lie.

“All right, I guess.”

“I had a good time, but I missed our chats,” she typed.

It seemed forever before Will answered. “Grace, thank you. I hated being without you. I didn’t realize how much I’ve come to rely on our talks to get me through the day.”

“I rely on you, too,” her fingers raced to tell him. She gnawed on her lower lip. “I thought about you constantly.”

Another long moment passed. “You’re all I thought about, too.”

Grace shouldn’t be this happy, but joy filled her. She felt like a teenager all over again—a teenager head over heels in love.